les murs peints de cannes

with only three days in cannes, i had to pack a lot into a short trip. on my first day in the city, i walked along the entire croisette, spoke at length with a couple of locals, met with the communications director at the hotel intercontinental carlton and dined solo on a wonderful repast at the carlton restaurant. on my second day, frederique tamet, the gregarious press attaché for the city of cannes, kindly escorted me on a culinary tour of the city, complete with visits to jean luc pelé’s amazing chocolate shop and the fromagerie ceneri as well as a meal of fresh sea urchin (more on that later).

while i wanted to visit nearby grasse, home to many historic parfumeries and site of one of my favorite films of the last decade (based on a well-loved novel of the same name), french railway workers went on strike the day i arrived and getting to grasse would have been a headache without a car.

alone on my last day—well, it was really a half day—i intended to hop on a ferry to nearby ile ste. maguerite, home to a maritime museum and the legendary man in the iron mask. i gave myself 45 minutes to walk from the martinez to the dock on the pier. unfortunately, what i thought was the easiest route was the wrong way to go as i kept getting cut off by construction or security guards. by the time i figured out my way, the last boat i could have successfuly taken without missing my appointment with the general manager at the hotel martinez had left the dock.

being a movie buff, one of the other activities that had interested me was a walking tour of cannes’ movie murals. since 2002, a number of local artists have been creating murals on the sides of old buildings in an effort to promote the city’s ongoing love affair with celluloid. there’s director francois truffaut and the most unlikely of stars, gerard depardieu. marilyn monroe and charlie chaplin are both lovingly displayed. blink and you’d miss batman and r2d2 on the cinema cannes mural, celebrating 100 years of film. yet, these weren’t my picks for must-see murals. my two favorites would probably get low marks from american tourists because the subjects are less well known.

the lumiere brothers are credited with inventing the moving picture, and this mural, situated outside of the main train station in cannes, harkens back to their first film, la ciotat, which is about the arrival of a train.

i have loved alain delon for many years. i don’t think there has been an actor, outside of probably montgomery clift, who has been as luminous and as heartbreakingly beautiful on screen as alain delon (and this comes from a huge james dean aficionado). i think that’s why i walked more than four miles outside of the city center to find this elusive mural. i can’t tell you why they have relegated delon’s beauty to the outskirts of cannes but i think it’s a grave injustice, especially since he is a frequent visitor to cannes and is beloved by the locals. living in new york, i am used to walking everywhere but most of it isn’t uphill as i was pained to find out in cannes when i walked from the train station to la bocca, which is on the road to the estoril mountains. i am paranoid enough to think that the motorcyclists were out to get me as i narrowly missed being hit a couple of times. i hope mr. delon appreciates my efforts…

“my brother has the title”

eva lucien, anthony haden-guest and the leader of the mongol hoard

i went out last night with my good friend susan anton. no, not the beautiful blonde who dated dudley moore—my friend has received hundreds of messages from people gushing about their love for the amazonian actress—but the even more famous former club kid and current vegan who seems to know everyone in new york city. she should run for mayor. this city would be much cooler.

we attended the scope art fair at lincoln center. if you have the chance to go this weekend, do it. lots of great art and photography and beautiful people acting as if they understand said art. some of it was disturbing but most of it was pretty straightforward. look for hubert kretzschmar’s fascinating photographs of a young mick jagger, and the dead boys, who were america’s answer to the sex pistols. and try to get to the food before the vultures strike. if you hesitate even a fraction of a second, nothing will be left to wrestle over.

we met up with susan’s friend, the honorable anthony haden-guest, who, when i erroneously called him lord guest, said, “no, my brother has the title.” who is his brother?

yes, that nigel tufnel. spinal tap is one of the funniest movies of all time, one i never get tired of watching. christopher guest’s tufnel is as iconic as humphrey bogart’s rick blaine and you’d be hard-pressed to find a more quotable character in cinema history.

while anthony is the elder son, his parents weren’t married when he was born and, peerage laws being what they are in england, the barony passed to christopher. i don’t think anthony cares since he’s having a grand time squiring around young women, all of whom love him. i do wonder what he was like when he was young. probably would have given george clooney a run for his money…